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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021592">you should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiser_boudreaux/pseuds/ouiser_boudreaux'>ouiser_boudreaux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Consensual Kink, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Gags, Light Bondage, Roleplay, Submissive Julian Devorak, consensual dub-con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiser_boudreaux/pseuds/ouiser_boudreaux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Vissenta and Julian were in the castle of her childhood, they had more pressing matters at hand. This hasn't stopped them from both fantasizing about what could have happened, though.</p>
<p>So when they return for a visit, under less dire circumstances, they waste no time in recreating what could have been.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am incredibly slow at working on <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407014/chapters/66986440">Queen Of Swords</a> but that won't stop me from writing these two horndogs getting it on in that same timeline! Also, this scenario was burning a hole in my brain for weeks, so, uh, you're welcome.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vissenta gives herself another once-over in the mirror. A twice-over, then. Thrice-over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She thinks she looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>stunning</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last time she was in this chamber, in this… this </span>
  <em>
    <span>castle</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that would belong to her, had she not handed the title over to her sister... she’d been in much more dire straits. When she’d dressed in a gown and crown on that night a year ago, she thought she’d been dressing for her own death. But now…  now, she admires how she looks, without the dark cloud of doom hanging over her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s in deep blue velvet, something simple and elegant, but with a neckline so low that her breasts are threatening to spill out if she breathes too deeply. Not a design </span>
  <em>
    <span>flaw</span>
  </em>
  <span>, necessarily, particularly not tonight. She’s let her hair down from its usual braid, letting her deep walnut-hued waves fall around her shoulders. Around her waist is a simple, golden belt, crafted for exquisite form, yes, but also for exquisite </span>
  <em>
    <span>function</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as it holds the finely-tooled leather scabbard that sheaths a long, thin, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> sharp dagger at her hip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lifts the golden circlet of the Sauvage ruler to rest upon her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technically</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the crown does belong to her sister, but as her sister has never been one for pageantry, Vissenta is happy to have it. For safekeeping, naturally.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And what woman doesn’t like to wear a crown around the house every once in a while?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles at herself in the mirror. “I like the look of this,” she murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nnngh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes flick to the side to catch a glimpse of the figure on the bed reflected over her shoulder. Her smile widens, taking on a sharp, flinty edge, and she turns her head to look at Julian properly. “I don’t recall asking for </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> opinion, trespasser.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last time Julian had been tied on this bed, it had all been under a rather over-elaborate ruse to get him into the castle in order to rescue Vissenta. Ever since then, Vissenta had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> eager to recreate that night, after she’d realized just how much she loved the sight of Julian tied down and at her mercy. Now, with all the doors properly locked - including the one to the secret passage that led to the wine cellar, as this had been the primary offender in interrupting her good time the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> time - she’s free to fully enjoy their roles as the commanding queen and insolent thief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Judging from the way Julian’s straining against his pants, he’s enjoying it already.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vissenta walks slowly back toward the bed, drinking in the sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>vision</span>
  </em>
  <span> of debauchery that Julian already presents her. His ankles and wrists are bound, not anchored to the bedposts, though she’d certainly considered the possibility. She wants to manipulate him, though, move him around wherever she’d like him. Besides, plenty of time in the evening to spread him out for her. She bites her lip at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’d torn his shirt open before binding his wrists behind him with a length of curtain cord, exposing so much skin for her to tease, and touch, and mark. She decides to do a little of all three, now, withdrawing the dagger from its scabbard and gently running the tip of it down one heaving pectoral. “You know,” she begins, still smiling with all the haughty wickedness she can muster. “You’re fortunate that I simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>tied</span>
  </em>
  <span> your hands, instead of cut them off, for trying to touch what’s not yours.” She presses in, just a little, just enough to draw a small scarlet bead of blood forth, but not enough to truly injure him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He moans again, muffled, his lips and teeth forced open by his own belt wrapped around his head. His eyelids flutter shut for a moment, but soon he’s looking at Vissenta again, pupils blown wide, a flush rising up over his cheeks, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. When Vissenta brings the tip of the dagger up to tilt his chin upward, he whines, and seems to remember that he’s supposed to be putting up a struggle. He strains against the cord at his wrists, growls into the gag, and does his best to look up at her like this isn’t exactly where he wants to be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vissenta drops the dagger and climbs onto the bed to straddle him. She leans down to lick at the blood she’d drawn, then presses her lips to the spot just above to bite, and suck, and leave a more lasting mark. With one hand she pinches a nipple, giving it a cruel twist, and hums with delight at the muted wail she draws from him. She can’t help but grind down on him a bit, feeling the hard length of him against her even though the draped velvet of her gown, and the knowledge that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> this to him, that she’d hardly had to touch him for him to get so worked up… well, she pulls at her gown to move the fabric out of the way, and presses against him once more, letting him feel through his pants that she’s got nothing else on and that she’s growing wetter by the second at the sight of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julian groans again, and tries to speak. “‘Eeease,” he manages to get out, though he’s back to guttural moaning as Vissenta grinds against him again and unlaces just the very top of her gown’s bodice to free her breasts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re either the worst thief I’ve caught in my cellars, or one who </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be caught.” She pulls on his hair, bringing his head closer, pressing his face against her chest, making sure to drag his cheek against one hardened nipple as she yanks him back to face her again. “Is this what you really wanted?” She punctuates the question with another roll of her hips, letting out her own small moan as she presses down, dragging her clit along the hard ridge beneath her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nn-hnngh.” Julian nods, then lets out another muffled cry as Vissenta leans down to clamp her teeth along the muscle at his throat. He keens as she drags her teeth down, and he strains against the bindings at his wrists in earnest this time, clearly desperate to touch her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vissenta leans back.She raises an eyebrow at him and tosses her hair as best she can while keeping the crown atop her head. She reaches forward to yank the mass of fabric out of Julian’s mouth. “You’d better speak quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julian licks his lips, makes a show of struggling against his bonds again, and gives her his best leer. “I heard that the queen of swords tastes even better than the wine.” His head lolls back with the force of Vissenta’s palm against his cheek, and he bites his lip and groans, his eyelids fluttering shut.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Insolent mouth on you,” Vissenta says. She pushes him back and down, hitching the hem of her gown up past her knees. “I think I like you better silent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And how…” Julian pants, but he tries to keep up, tries to deliver his lines with </span>
  <em>
    <span>panache</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “How are you going to--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t let him finish. She lowers herself against his open mouth, one hand tangled in his hair. “See how you like the taste,” she gasps out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julian wastes no time in doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> as his queen commands him. He goes where her grip takes him, yes, but he loves going wherever she wants him. He presses the flat of his tongue against her, dragging it up from her core to her cleft, and wraps his lips to suckle briefly at the bud nestled there. When she grinds down into him, he opens his mouth wide again, running his tongue along each and every fold of her, and inside of her, wishing he could lap up every drop of her that’s started to already run down his chin and coat his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More for later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, and he hopes she forces him to clean up the mess, and when Vissenta’s nails dig into his scalp as she twists her fingers deeper into his hair, his hips buck up involuntarily, rutting against nothing, and he hears her laugh above him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come to steal the queen’s virtue?” That Vissenta can manage to string together a coherent sentence right now only serves to remind Julian that he shouldn’t enjoy himself, not too much, not until she’s had her fill, even if lying beneath her like this, he’s having </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than his fill.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem to mistake me for an innocent,” she continues, the words a breathy sigh. She pulls back, rearranges herself a bit, leans down, and before Julian can protest, she seals her mouth over his, plunging her tongue inside, tasting herself on him, humming with delight all the while. When she pulls back once more, she bites his lower lip, tugging it with her teeth as far as she can on her way back to sitting up straight. “I am the queen of fucking swords, and I take what I want, when I fucking want it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julian’s eyes flutter shut and he opens his mouth, beckoning her to return, soundlessly begging her to use him and take what she wants from him, and he’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this that Vissenta can’t help but oblige, positioning herself once more over him, hovering just long enough to tease him, to feel his tongue searching for her, his hot, panting breaths against her dripping cunt, and she must be dripping on that wandering tongue because a strangled sound escapes from the back of Julian’s throat, and where he would normally wait for her to instruct him, he arches up, craning his neck until his lips meet her once more, and lets out such a sound of satisfaction that Vissenta relents and gives him what he wants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After all, it’s exactly what she wants, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps grinding against his eager mouth, tugging his head back, tilting him at an angle where he has no choice but to lavish all his attentions on her clit, and lavish he does. She’s breathing hard, trying to keep from gasping, and Julian redoubles his efforts, as if he’d ever let them slip to begin with. His arms ache, dully, from being tied behind him, but the pain only makes him harder, makes him desperate, makes him go lightheaded as she moans above him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vissenta’s still talking, but her admonishments are broken up by curses and groans of ecstasy as she climbs closer to the brink. “Your queen - </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> - knows what she - </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahh - </span>
  </em>
  <span> wants from you, and - fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span>, fuck, Julian</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she wants… she wants to…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s got both hands in his hair now, and he’s moaning into her as his senses are surrounded, filled only by her taste, her scent, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>heat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as she comes against his face, wringing out as much from him as she can, until he feels her thighs spasm against his cheeks, and she leans back. She rests on her heels, glassy-eyed, and all he can do is look up at her, more than a little smug. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Julian can’t help himself. “So she does taste better than the wine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vissenta blinks and shakes her head. She looks down at him, pursing her lips, raising her brows, suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>smirking</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. “I said for you to be quiet.” She takes the fabric of his belt, still hanging loose around his neck, and uses it to wipe his face clean before shoving it between his teeth once more and tightening it around his jaw. “The queen isn’t done with you yet.”</span>
</p>
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